as each day dawns
by winteredspark
Summary: "How many original families are there?" Stefan asks. "Two."/ Katarina finally reveals a secret Elijah has kept buried for centuries, one that could end the nightmare known as Klaus. But can they pay the necessary price? Delena/Stefarine/Kalija.
1. prologue: elijah's secret

**_a**s **e**ach **d**ay **d**awns_

.._prologue_..

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><p>"Why did you want me to come with you?" Stefan asks, eyeing the old oaks quivering and groaning in the breeze, their branches snapping back and forth like the lash of a whip. "I'm finally free, Katherine. Free to return home to Elena."<p>

Katherine reaches for the radio, glowering at the younger Salvatore brother as he bats her hand away from the button. "Elena is not safe," she says at last. "As you must very well know, considering you were the one who spared Klaus' life."

"It would have killed Damon," Stefan replies.

"Always protecting your brother," Katherine muses, the lilt in her voice driving him insane. "Even after he continues to be the very monster you swore to disown. What changed, hmm?"

"I'm not playing these games with you," Stefan growls.

Katherine's lower lip slides out in a pout, "Everything is not a game, Stefan."

He catches her eye, waits for her to look away uncomfortably, "With you, yes."

Silence falls over them, broken only by the sound of Katherine's nails tapping against the driver's side window.

"There must be another way to kill Klaus," Stefan says a few minutes later, the humanity revealing itself in the crack of his voice. "He will never stop hunting Elena."

"There is another way."

"What?" He looks over and tries to meet Katherine's gaze, but she is deliberately avoiding it. "Katherine, if you truly love me, as you claim, then you will tell me what you know."

Katherine sighs, "Don't use that against me, Stefan. It won't work."

"It's working already." Stefan eyes her keenly, brushing his fingers over his forehead and trying to rub out the wrinkles.

Her foot slams down on the gas, and the car accelerates far above the speed limit. Katherine's lips tighten, and he can see the fight in her eyes.

"Turn her into a vampire, and her blood will no longer be useful," Katherine says with a shrug.

"That isn't an option," Stefan says tightly, his fingers digging into his left thigh and drawing blood to the surface.

Her eyebrows raise, eyes gazing curiously at him as a cat might watch a mouse it prepares to devour, watching it squirm. "I was only kidding," she adds with a chuckle. "Lighten up, Stefan."

Stefan's hand flies out, hits the side of her face, and the car goes swerving slightly off the road as Katherine's head slams into the window, cracking the glass.

"Honestly, Stefan." Katherine runs a hand through her hair, lips trembling as she tries to scrub the blood from her cheek. "I thought you were more proper than this. Perhaps your ripper stage changed you after all." Her voice fades back to that irritable nonchalance.

"If you know something," Stefan hisses, voice deadly quiet, "then you will tell me."

Katherine hesitates, voice fading to silence for a minute. "One original hybrid can kill another," she says at last.

"But -" Stefan pauses, wondering what she could possibly mean by that. "Klaus is the only original hybrid, born into a werewolf bloodline by a mother who allowed him to be turned into a vampire."

"No," Katherine says, shaking her head. The car swerves slightly. "There is another hybrid, older than Klaus. She was kept a secret by Elijah, until he revealed the truth to me." Her eyes glint with sadness for a moment. "I was the only one he told."

Stefan studies her expression, "You cared about him, didn't you? More than you'll ever care about me."

Katherine scoffs, "It matters not. Elijah is dead, remember?" The car swerves again. "I _saw_ him die."

Stefan shakes his head, "An original can always return to the living, if the dagger is removed from their heart. We just have to get to his casket and -"

"Already ahead of you there," Katherine says, her signature smirk lifting the corners of her lips. "Why do you think I asked you to accompany me?"

"Because you love me," Stefan says, stating the obvious.

Katherine laughs coldly, "Besides that, Stefan, because we all know you will never return my love, even if it means despising me for the rest of eternity." Her fingers splay against the steering wheel. "I have another purpose in mind."

"You want revenge on Klaus," Stefan says immediately.

She flicks the car lights off for a moment, clothing her car in darkness as they travel along the single lane road in the ever-strengthening dawn.

"I want Klaus dead," Katherine says matter-of-factly, "and you are going to help me."

"How can I help you if you don't tell me how to kill Klaus?" he asks, reaching for her shoulder. She shrinks away from his touch.

Katherine swipes her tongue about her lips, glances at him seductively.

"First, you have to use that smooth tongue of yours to convince the original families to help us," she says, "then I will tell you more."

Stefan prepares to lash back out at her stubborn nature, when he actually comprehends her words, "_Families_? I thought there was only one."

Katherine's eyes are steadily fixed on the road once more, "Elijah was a man of his word. He promised that he would keep the secret of the original hybrid between me and him until our demise. Unfortunately, it has now become impossible to keep that promise, if we ever want to kill Klaus."

"How many original families are there?" Stefan asks.

"Two," Katherine says. She glances at the road marker, then sighs impatiently. "In order for you to understand, you must know Elijah's story. It's lengthy, though. You might get bored." Wrapping a strand of silky hair around her finger, she eyes him suggestively, licking her lips once more. "It would be a lot more fun for _me_ to distract you."

Stefan smirks, "As tempting as that sounds, I think I'll pass. Besides, if you want to catch me up on Elijah's story before we reach our final destination, then I'm afraid there will be no time for your _distractions_."

Katherine glares at him for a second, then sighs in resignation, "Very well." She runs her fingers over the blood-smeared window. "Когато обичаш някого, не е без течаща да запазят собствените си съществуване, защото те са си струва дори болката от смъртта," she whispers wistfully, eyes shining with what could be seen as a sheen of tears.

"Bulgarian?" Stefan asks.

Katherine nods, turning to look at him, "Elijah said it all the time." This time, she doesn't brush Stefan's hand from her shoulder.

"What does it mean?" Stefan wonders.

"When you love someone, there is no running to preserve your own existence, for they are worth even the pain of death," Katherine says, repeating it over and over in Bulgarian until the haunting lilt of her voice fills the car.

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><p><strong>An: I have always been fascinated with Elijah's character, especially when he said that he had fallen in love with Katherine. As the series has continued on, and I have gotten bits and pieces of Elijah's past, I found myself wanting to fill in the holes. Not to mention, I was curious as to how opening the caskets containing Klaus' family will help kill Klaus without destroying the rest of the world. Thus, I came up with this story. It's only the prologue, and it's rough, but I like the idea. :) Your thoughts are appreciated. **


	2. one: much you do not know

**_a**s **e**ach **d**ay **d**awns_

.._part one_..

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><p>1392 AD<p>

Greenland

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><p>"You look cold."<p>

Elijah looks up from his scroll on Mesopotamian legends to meet his brother's golden eyes laced with a hint of a smirk. His fingers tighten around the parchment as he strives to banish the goosebumps from his skin, then he allows a thin smile to spread across his lips.

"I see you are as observant as ever," Elijah comments evenly, rolling the scroll closed. "Много добро, брат. Very good, brother."

Klaus takes a step into the room, wrapping the coat more firmly against his body to keep him safe from the chilling cold, "You know I cannot stand to hear you speak in such a vulgar tone."

Elijah chuckles, "You only think Bulgarian is vulgar because you cannot speak it."

At Klaus' bark of a laugh the tension in the room dissipates, replaced by a feeling of comradary at a level only their family dares show.

"I never found use for the language, not when I can speak our mother tongue quite proficiently," Klaus says with another one of his smiles closer to a smirk. Since their birth, the children of Mikael and Esther have been taught to keep their emotions in check, something that is not difficult for Elijah. However, Klaus often struggles with it; his every glance and smile suggests arrogance or superior knowledge.

"What are you reading, brother?" Klaus wonders, bracing his hip against the edge of a sheep-skinned chair. His hands stretch out towards the crackling fire in the pit just a few feet away and he sighs with pleasure.

Elijah unfurls the scroll just slightly, enough to make out the ancient rune symbols he studied when he was a boy. They do not even have a name, their civilization is so nearly lost, but there is the language passed down among a few select families.

"This lost culture was famous for their legends," Elijah says at last, breathing a heavy sigh. "When the last of their kind passed on, their legend was preserved and passed down by word of mouth to the Mesopotamians, who recorded it."

Klaus laughs, "You _would_ be studying ruins from a lost civilization. It is very...you." He ignores his brother's glare. "Very well, what have you been studying?"

Elijah rises to his feet and makes his way over to the window shedding the gray, thin light into the room. Behind the engraved window pane the wind hisses and snow blankets the ground. Why his mother and father decided to settle down in Greenland is beyond his comprehension, but they must have had their reasons. At least no one wishes to bother them here, and when the ice leaves to wreck havoc on the northern end of the island, they are left with rolling green hills perfect to spar on.

"There is a legend, the oldest of its kind," Elijah begins, "that speaks of a devil in the night, one who is burned by the light. Legend says that this creature spends the night luring humans into the wood and feeding on their dispensible bodies until they are drained of blood." He imagines sharp fangs and crimson eyes in his mind as he speaks, and an involuntary shiver courses through his body.

Klaus pauses, "Brother, you must spare your mind from these dark illusions. It makes you jumpy."

"Трябва да знаете по-добре, Клаус. You should know better, Klaus," a soft voice says from the shadows of the doorway. "Your brother has always been known to brood, and I doubt there is anything in the world that could change such a mannerism." Creme skirts slide into view along with the exquisite face of a young woman with a set jaw and sparkling brown eyes. Her wavy brown hair has been swept into a loose bun, decorating with berries and a purple flower from the woods in which her home rests.

"Cousin," Klaus says with a bow, his eyes twinkling at her appearance. "It has been too long since your last visit."

The woman smiles, revealing no teeth, "The ice has prevented my ship from docking until now. Forgive me." She turns then, to the older brother, and her smile widens until it is no longer framed with cold politeness. "Колко хубаво е да те видя, братовчед. How good it is to see you, Cousin."

"I have missed you, Anastasiya," Elijah says, bringing her hand to his lips. "What, may I inquire, is your business here?"

"Am I not allowed to simply visit my relations?" Anastasiya asks, eyes sparkling too innocently.

"No," Klaus says, his expression darkening. "You always have another motive. The last time you were hear, if I can recall correctly, you told me that I was doomed to live a life filled with misery and a never ending thirst for power I could never satisfy."

Anastasiya's eyebrows rise, "Те не са мои думи, братовчед. They were not my words, Cousin, but that of the witches that frequently call on my parents. They came to me and told me to deliver a message. I did as they asked." Her voice is filled with haughty pride, pride that every member of their family struggles to repress. "This time, however, I am here to visit Elijah."

"Might I ask why, Cousin?" Elijah wonders, confused by her silence, and the way that her eyes shift over the Mesopotamian scroll with a hint of malice.

"I shall tell you," Anastasiya says, tipping her head towards the closed door. "However, your mother currently ascends the stairwell to call you both down for supper." They hear the rap of knuckles on the door a second later. "After we eat, I will reveal my purpose in visiting to you, Elijah."

"Then let us sup," Klaus growls, pushing past the duo and opening the door to follow Esther down the stairs.

Anastasiya's eyes follow the younger brother, "He is angry." Her smile wavers for a moment, then returns as Elijah offers her his arm.

"Let him be angry," Elijah says, leaning down until he can press his lips against the hollow of her neck, allowing himself a moment of imperfection. "Нека отидем."

A nervous giggle escapes from Anastasiya's plump lips, "Нека отидем. Let us go."

* * *

><p>"Are you not cold, Cousin?" Elijah asks some time later.<p>

Anastasiya takes another step out the door into the bitter cold, her eyes glinting with pleasure as the frigid air combs her bare arms. The icicles quickly gather in clumps on her lashes, but she doesn't seem to even notice.

"Cousin," Elijah calls out again, his voice growing rough with alarm, "your limbs will freeze and you will lose use of them. I beseech you to return inside so that we may talk."

She turns, eyes changing for a moment right in front of him, the veins sinking beneath them. Then she smiles and holds out a hand, "I am fine, Elijah. Would you care to join me?"

It takes a moment to regain his breath, and then not wishing to displease her by leaving her arm hanging in the air, Elijah extends his own arm and curls it about hers. Rashly, she lays her head on his shoulder, and he watches their breath mingle in the air, seeming to disappear before their very eyes.

"This is most improper," Elijah says after a moment.

Anastasiya sighs, then looks up at him with full brown eyes, "Fetch a blade for yourself and for me. I care for some competition, if you are game to provide it."

Although he enjoys his cousin's company - which he scarcely is ever given the pleasure of - Elijah is always being surprised by her boldness. Over the years they have sparred numerous times, but always when spring is blending into summer and the ice has shifted to the other side of the island. He can already feel his muscles starting to ache from the cold, but she looks perfectly normal, as if there isn't any cold to bother her in the first place.

"I don't think that this is a good idea," he begins.

"Животът е по-скоро скучна без шансове, тъй като трябва да знаете," Anastasiya scolds, crossing her arms impertinently. "Life is rather dull without chances, as you must know. One would think you were scared of losing to me." She flashes him a mocking smirk, enough to give him reason to walk over to the roof-top storage hut and pull two sharpened branches made from white oak from the top shelf.

The moment he places the blade gently in her hand she strikes out with it, and Elijah yelps at it whips the side of his shoulder, leaving a red stain to seep through his shirt, "Since when have you gotten so quick with a blade, Cousin?"

Anastasiya only smirks, then lashes out again with the blade. Elijah quickly raises his blade up to block her attack, then takes a swipe at her waist - gently enough so that it won't hurt her delicate figure much. To his surprise, however, Anastasiya blocks the attack, then - body blurring - stabs the blade into his stomach. Pain lances through him, and Elijah gasps, only able to look idiotically at the blade protruding from his skin. Moments later, Anastasiya thrusts back, yanking it from his stomach, then tosses it to the side. She makes no move to run for help as blood begins seeping from the wound.

"Cousin," Elijah gasps, falling to the ground and wincing as ice begins to form a layer over the hole in his stomach, sending a burning sensation throughout his entire body.

Her dark eyes begin to change again as she stares at him, feet inching closer, then the veins sink beneath her eyes, mottled blue and red colors that make him sick just looking at it. Fangs protrude from her mouth, and Elijah recalls through blurred thoughts the scroll he read about the creatures of the night. However, it is impossible, must be, for Anastasiya walks in the sunlight. _She is going to feed on me_, he thinks.

"There is much you do not know, Cousin," she says, then brings her wrist up to her lips and bites into it with those horribly sharp fangs. Then she holds out her bleeding, dripping wrist and plants it against his own lips, holding it there despite his protests. "Drink, Elijah. Това не е момент да действат на детето. This is not the moment to act the child. Drink, Cousin!"

Finally, Elijah gives in, writhing despite his typical composure as the metallic taste of her blood fills his mouth. However, the moment he swallows, the pain in his stomach begins to lessen and he looks down just in time to see the hole in his stomach begin to close, to heal itself. In moments, his skin looks as spotless as it did before their spar.

"What are you, Stasiya?" Elijah asks, his horror-struck eyes meeting hers.

The veins retreat from her cheekbones, leaving her skin soft to the touch once more. Her eyes look soft and entreating, not at all like the crimson flames they were one moment before.

"Има много неща, че вие все още не знаем," Anastasiya whispers, touching his cheek gently. "There is much that you do not yet know."

* * *

><p><strong>An: I have to say, I rather like Anastasiya's character. She will appear a lot in the beginning of the story, so I have more time to develop her character. What do you all think?**


	3. two: the original witch

_**a**s **e**ach **d**ay **d**awns_

_..part two.._

* * *

><p>1392 AD<p>

Greenland

* * *

><p>"Do not touch me."<p>

"Не е глупаво, Илия. Do not be foolish, Elijah," Anastaysia growls impatiently as she leads her cousin into the antechamber of his private rooms. "If I had known you would react in such a manner, I would not have revealed my nature to you." She lowers him down onto the sheep-skinned chair, slipping awkwardly due to his persistant efforts in trying to get away, and he lands in a heap.

Elijah scrabbles to a sitting position, wincing as the barely noticable scar on his abdomen throbs. His brown eyes dart warily about the room, narrowing as Anastaysia takes a lit candle in her fingertips and commences lighting the candles lining the fire-pit.

"How else would you have me act, Cousin?" he asks softly.

Anastaysia's eyes glance back briefly at him as she murmers, "Открийте с причините зад действия преди конфискация. Discover the reasons behind actions before condemnation. Surely you have not forgotten your mother's teachings so quickly."

"How would you know what my mother has chosen to share with me?" Elijah asks, trying to keep his voice steady. In his head, images of blue and red mottled skin and fangs threaten to send him shuddering into the earthen floor.

"Who else could have shared the secrets of the Originals with your mother besides myself?" Anastaysia asks with a little smile, apparantly not needing an answer. "I have sought to help your mother, and her mother before that, trained them in the ways of the Originals. But your mother is caught up in her own traditions." She sinks gracefully onto the floor beside the roaring fire, her eyes sliding shut as she basks in the warmth of the flames. The light cascades over her features and casts them in a beautiful light.

"How many years have you existed?" Elijah asks, the tremble visible in his tone. He chances a look at the blade covered in his own blood lying on the floor beside the entrance.

"That is not important," Anastaysia answers. "I have existed far beyond time you can even conceive."

"Then why," Elijah wonders, "are you here now?" He shivers as she takes his hands in her own, running her thumbs over his skin.

Anastaysia's eyes darken then, not as they had before. This time, they blacken with worry and sadness.

"Your mother has made a grave mistake," she whispers. "It is up to me to fix her error before it tears apart the balance of nature. She has been ignoring the spirits. Това ще донесе за нищо, но унищожаване, they said. This will bring about nothing but destruction, they told her, over and over again." Anastaysia sucks in a deep breath. "Now the spirits are angry. They wish to dispose of her."

"What do you mean 'dispose of her?'" Elijah asks, clenching her hands tight in his. "What are these spirits you speak of?"

For the first time, Anastaysia looks angry with him, "Do not pretend that you are naive about the existance of the spirits. You live peacefully in the presence of werewolves, do you not?"

"The werewolves follow the guidance of the same spirits?" he asks, forgetting that he is not supposed to know about the spirits. "I beg your pardon, Cousin. My mother was determined to keep the spirits a secret as long as possible. I think it was my father's decision." Elijah shivers as he thinks of his father, Mikael. "It was entirely by accident that I happened to glimpse one of her intercourses with the spirits. She had seemed troubled, and I wanted to make sure that she was in good health. When she saw me, she made me swear to keep the spirits to myself; she said they were a curse, Cousin."

Anastaysia pulls away from him as though she has been sparked. Her eyes are wide in her face.

"The spirits are nary a curse unless one provokes their wrath," she replies cautiously. "Were you aware that your mother is a witch?"

It is Elijah's turn to stumble back-wards, "No. Това е невъзможно! That is impossible! My mother told me that there was an Original witch aiding the werewolves. She spoke of this witch with incredible distaste, revealing that this Original Witch tampered with the spirits, and had found a way to manipulate her power and free the wolves from their moon curse. My mother said that, if she ever came in contact with the Original Witch, she would not hesitate to wield a blade and slit the evil one's throat."

"She was speaking of herself, my dear Cousin," Anastaysia says gently, trying to take his hand. He pulls it away, however.

"My mother would not aid the werewolves," Elijah spits.

"She would if they threatened to hurt her family," Anastaysia answers. "Esther confided in me immediately after she first tampered with the balance of nature. She said, through her tears, that the leaders of their tribe had threatened to creep in and slaughter all of her children, including _you_."

"Why would the tribe promise something so vulgar and force my mother into helping them?" Elijah feels himself creeping just slightly towards the entrance into the main hall leading to the central wing of the house.

Anastaysia shakes her head rapidly, "I do not know the reasons behind the tribe's actions, nor do I wish to know them. They are a vulgar breed, werewolves. They get it from their Originator." She smiles as if recounting a memory.

"So," Elijah mutters, taking another step towards the shadowed doorway, "you are here to reestablish the balance of nature by killing my mother, simply because she was forced to aid the werewolves."

"No." Anastasiya runs her fingers a mere breath over the flickering flames, remembering the days when she could actually feel the pain of heat. "I am here, sent by order of the spirits, to kill your mother because of her second offense, one far more grievous."

"Which is?" Elijah's hand creeps towards the blood-stained blade, fingers trembling.

"Your brother," Anastasiya breathes, eyes flickering with the darkness of the demon he so fears. "Niklaus."

Elijah reaches back as fast as he dares, wraps his fingers securely around the blade, then swings it around and into his cousin's heart. Anastasiya's eyes grow huge with disbelief before fading to a cob-webbed black. Her skin wrinkles and discolors to a dusty grey in color as her body tumbles to the floor, blood spewing from her wound. Then, Elijah does the only thing his mind is capable of recognizing in the dizzying moment.

He runs.

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><p><strong>An: So, the plot thickens. I still have no reviews, but perhaps I'll get more interest once the plot is able to develop further. Basically, I am taking Rebekah's story and elaborating, giving Elijah's side. Plus, I have my own ideas about how they are going to kill Klaus, so I have to incorporate that into Elijah's story. Thank you for reading thus far. :)**


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